


Search History

by AnotherAnon0



Category: Biohazard | Resident Evil (Gameverse)
Genre: Anal Gaping, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cheating, Communication Failure, Dark Fantasy, Established Relationship, Humiliation, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, M/M, Marking, Military Uniforms, Rape Roleplay, Rough Body Play, Rough Sex, Sharing, Size Kink, Slut Shaming, Technically Cuckolding, The alternative title to this is "Sergei's giant cock fixes a relationship"
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-16 16:13:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29210172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnotherAnon0/pseuds/AnotherAnon0
Summary: Nicholai discovers Carlos has some dark fantasies.He wants to help him live them out.[Read the tags, please!]
Relationships: Carlos Oliveira/Sergei Vladimir, Nicholai Ginovaef | Nikolai Zinoviev/Carlos Oliveira
Comments: 8
Kudos: 21





	Search History

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sweetNsimple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/gifts).
  * Inspired by [His Seryozha](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573116) by [sweetNsimple](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetNsimple/pseuds/sweetNsimple). 



**_“Filthy brat,” he said again. “You love being papa’s mess!” He tucked his dick away._ **

**_Yuri made a weak, whimpering noise of agreement, head nodding. He still hesitated over touching his wet, sticky chest and so his hands landed on the bed on either side of him, holding him up after his orgasm._ **

**_“Now you must wear this filth until I get home after work.”_ **

Nicholai squinted, sleep-groggy eyes feeling assaulted by the bright, white screen of the computer.

They flicked over the words, nose crinkling in distaste as scene after scene continued to play out in the lewd story. Eventually, he couldn't read a single sentence further, and clicked the _**x**_ box of the browser, finally closing it out. 

As he stared at the silly, cat-themed desktop wallpaper Carlos had picked out, he huffed a breath of exasperation. 

He knew what he was doing was wrong -- snooping on his boyfriend. Going through his computer, searching his history. But it hadn't been a decision he'd made lightly. He'd resisted the urges for weeks, suffering in silence as he watched Carlos continue to change in subtle ways. But as Carlos' behaviour continued to trigger alarm bells in his mind, his resolve broke.

Nicholai had been _sure_ he was going to find evidence the younger man had been cheating. He was prepared for it. He had steeled himself for it. He had even accepted it, the self-hating part of himself that lived deep at the bottom of his stomach telling him he never even should have _thought_ he'd have a chance with Carlos.

The boy was beautiful, almost 15 years his junior, and lusted after by nearly every man and woman at the UBCS barracks. He was bright and cheery, a ray of sunshine that lit up everyone's day and made even the coldest moment warmer. He was everything Nicholai was not. He was perfect.

But what Nicholai hadn't been prepared for was the discovery of _smut_.

Grotesque stories, perverse pictures, and filthy videos depicting every kind of sexual obscenity and abuse being inflicted upon men -- willing and _unwilling_. There was no taboo that wasn't pushed in Carlos' impressive collection of bookmarks and searches, though the young man seemed to have a particular affinity for _rape fantasies_ based on how many times he'd searched through catalogues of pornography using those words. 

He seemed to like _big cocks_ just as much. In the smutty stories, the cocks were described as _monstrous_ , _horse-like_ , and _beastly_. Some of the videos in his search history included men with cocks that made Nicholai's mouth involuntarily gape in shock. They were always pounding into much smaller bodies, transforming the holes beyond belief. Nicholai knew he didn't have what could be considered a _large_ cock -- but it was by no means small. It was perfectly average, and he knew how to use it well. But sorting through what Carlos had been indulging in, he couldn't help but feel inadequate. 

Nicholai sat before the computer in silence, his rumination moving between bitterness and shock. He had never been aware that Carlos had any inkling of fetishistic desires -- but the thought only hurt him more. He felt he had been grossly incompetent in gauging his lover's needs. While their love life had always been mutually enjoyable, it clearly had never been enough for the younger man.

Still -- a part of Nicholai was happy there hadn't been any evidence Carlos had been cheating on him.

But another part told him it could have only been a matter of time.

\--

"Adebeyo -- if you miss that shot one more time I am going to strap you to the goddamn target!" 

"S-sorry, S-sir!" 

Nicholai couldn't help but smirk as he watched the Nigerian marksman tremble, normally steel-fingers quivering under the bear-eyed glare of Colonel Sergei Vladimir. 

Vladimir didn't often visit the training fields for the lower-level mercenaries, his personal instruction usually reserved for the Sergeants and Captains. But when he did, it was always a riot to the younger Russian. The mercenaries always looked like they were going to pass out, so frightful of making an error that they made far more than they would have. 

Having befriended the man for almost two decades, he knew Sergei was just trying to entertain himself and had absolutely no concern for the actual _training_ element of it. He must have been in a good mood that day.

Sergei slinked up to sit next to him as Adebeyo began firing off rounds, a smile peeling across his scarred face just as his back turned to the crowd.

"You're enjoying yourself." Nicholai said with a smirk, "I feel bad for the barracks counsellor."

Sergei stuck his tongue out briefly in a silent jeer, snatching his water bottle from beneath the bench, "Why the fuck is it so hot?"

"This isn't Siberia, _Seryozha_."

"Well, I can't wait to go back! I hate it here." Sergei said, lifting the bottle to his lips and taking a deep, desperate swig. Some trickles of water dripped from his lips and rolled down his chin onto his obscenely muscular, naked chest, Sergei having discarded his shirt a few hours into the training day. The trail of water made the older man's skin glisten. He was getting a slight tan, Nicholai noted grumpily, as the layers of SPF100 sunscreen he had to wear made him feel greasy and heavy. Without them, he'd have been a burned beet by sundown.

"Adebeyo! What the fuck did I say!" Sergei suddenly barked, shoving the bottle at Nicholai and lunging up from the bench. Nicholai smirked, shaking his head with a chuckle as Sergei bore into the marksman again. 

A tuft of golden-brown hair caught Nicholai's attention. Carlos had strode up to the line of mercenaries, waiting for their assessment. The younger man noticed him immediately, smiling cutely and waving.

Nicholai waved back. He wanted to smile, but a a frown settled into his face quickly as he noticed Carlos' eyes floating towards Sergei.

"Fuck." Nicholai muttered quietly, at first trying to tell himself the younger man was doing what the rest of them were -- simply watching with amusement at the tirade Sergei had started about _performance_. A few weeks ago, he might have even bought that excuse. 

But not now.

Not when he was now entirely awoken to what might just be happening in Carlos' brain. Not when he was now focusing intently on the expression on Carlos' face, assessing it expertly as it moved from curiosity, to _arousal_. 

Nicholai's breath hitched as he watched Carlos begin to nibble on the bottom petal of his full lips. He was shifting slightly from foot to foot, eyes completely locked on the scene of Sergei barking abusive nothings at the few mercenaries who had been trialling their short-shooting. Every profanity seemed to be sending a shiver up Carlos' spine, and Nicholai could only think of the various stories he'd read through while stalking through the younger man's internet search history. 

"Fuck." He said to himself again, hissing in upset.

Suddenly, Carlos was slipping out of the line and walking towards him.

"I have to... uh... go to the bathroom. I'll be right back." He said, not bothering with military formalities. He hadn't since the two had started dating. Carlos slipped away quickly, not even waiting for an answer beyond a nod.

Nicholai immediately noticed his lover wasn't going to the communal bathrooms. He was going back to the barracks.

\--

**_"Are you daddy's little slut?"_ **

**_"Gnn-n-no! P-pl-please s-stop! S-top!! I c-can't ta-take it!""_ **

**_FWAP_ **

**_"I won't stop until you say it... Say 'I'm daddy's cocksleeve.''"_ **

**_"P-plea-please s-sto-st--"_ **

**_FWAP_ **

Nicholai's nostrils flared, a heavy breath blowing out of his lips like a dragon letting off steam as he continued to watch the video, a bellowing cry of pain hushing through the volume-hushed speakers of the computer. It was an intense, amateur scene of a young man getting whipped within an inch of his life by a man with a huge cock dangling heavily between his legs. The boy's body hung from his wrists, and he writhed in agony with every lash. He bawled and screamed, looking entirely without pleasure as he was abused roughly, red lines and blue stripes decorating his back from shoulders to the bottom of his thighs. 

It was logged into Carlos' search history just after he slipped away from the training group.

Nicholai closed the browser, unable to watch anymore. He couldn't _believe_ Carlos enjoyed this sort of smut, it appearing to completely oppose his personality in every way.

He sat silently for a moment, head drooping in upset, before he decided he should slip back into bed before the younger man woke up. He raised a lazy finger to the computer's power button, pressing down on it and waiting for the screen to go black. 

When it did, he peeped in surprise as Carlos was hovering over his shoulder in the monochrome reflection. Nicholai spun around, eyes widening and Adams apple bobbing. Carlos was standing in the frame of the bedroom door, arms wrapped across his chest. His hair was tousled and his pyjamas were twisted up, but through the sleep-grogginess on his face was shocked realisation.

"W-what are you doing?" He whimpered, clearly already upset. Nicholai wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there, "W-why d-did you do that?" 

The sadness in Nicholai's chest began to swell, his lip twitching and cocking upwards. Sorrow was immediately replaced by a hurt-fuelled anger.

"What am I doing?" He hissed, "What are _you_ doing?!"

Carlos' cheek trembled. His eyes dropped to the floor. He sniffled.

"I-if you were unhappy you should have just-- just said so!" Nicholai snapped, pointing firmly down at the computer, "W-what are you doing looking at this-- this garbage! What's wrong with you?!"

"I d-don't know..." Carlos whined, tears swelling on his eyelashes, "I'm s-sorry, Nicky..."

Nicholai scoffed, striding towards the door of the dorm room they shared. He snatched his fatigue coat from the rack on the wall, shoving his arms into the sleeves with a grunt of frustration. He didn't bother putting on his boots, not caring if he dirtied his slippers. He just wanted to get away from Carlos.

"Where are you g-going?" Carlos squeaked, looking almost like he was afraid that if Nicholai crossed the threshold of the door, he'd be gone forever.

"For a walk." Nicholai huffed, not turning back to look at Carlos. He turned the doorhandle quickly, slipping out into the hall without another word.

"Nicky, pl-please, I'm s-sorry! I'm not unhappy! I lov--"

Nicholai slammed the door behind him, unwilling to let the younger man finish his sentence.

\--

"Ouch."

Nicholai mumbled in anger as yet another pebble dug into the thin soles of his house slippers. He kicked it away, snarling at the little stone.

He didn't know where, exactly, on the barracks property he'd ended up. He'd walked for hours, combing down the jogging trails and across paths barely lit by the brightness of the full moon. He didn't even know if he'd be able to find his way back in the darkness, but in that moment he didn't care. His heart felt broken.

After a few more minutes of walking, he could hear the water, and knew he must have come to the limits of the property. He walked closer to the sound, and broke through the trees to find the ocean edge, calm waves fluttering against the stony cliff. More exposed to the open sky, he could see how filthy his slippers had become, waddling through the forest for as long as he had. Again, he didn't find the energy to care.

"Comrade?"

Nicholai almost jumped when he heard the voice suddenly invade the quiet he'd gotten accustomed to, head turning back and forth in an attempt to find out where it had come from.

"Comrade, down here!"

Nicholai looked down the cliff's edge, eyes widening as he saw Sergei's head bobbing in the crystalline, moonlit water. 

"What the hell are you doing?" His brow furrowed, "Do you know what time it is?"

Sergei just giggled, and swam up closer to the lower plateau of boulders. Nicholai struggled but managed to find a way to get down to it, having to hold onto a small tree for support as he dropped down to it.

"It is..." Sergei lifted his arm from the water, checking his watch, "3:25 a.m."

"I wasn't asking you what time it was, _durak_ , I was asking you what the hell _you_ are doing _here_ at this time."

"It is my 3 a.m swim!"

"You have a 3 a.m sw--" Nicholai groaned, rolling his eyes, "You know what? Nevermind."

"It seems an odd time for you to be out, however..." Sergei took notice of Nicholai's slippers, wet brow furrowing, "And you are not even dressed properly. Did something happen, comrade?"

Nicholai sighed, finding where Sergei had discarded his clothes atop a boulder and sitting upon them. Sergei waded in the water gently, looking up at the exacerbated face of his exhausted friend with curiosity and waiting for him to speak. Nicholai seemed to be struggling with words, Adams apple bobbing harshly.

"I had a fight with Carlos." He finally blathered, the words tasting acidic. 

"Oh, comrade, I am so sorry to hear this." Sergei frowned, "What happened?"

Nicholai scrubbed a hand over his face, unsure of whether he could even tell Sergei the whole story. It was humiliating to even think about. But Sergei had been nothing if not a studious friend, the two having comforted each other through some of the most difficult moments in their lives.

Their entire friendship had started when Nicholai was a scrawny, untrained conscript, too poor to even afford his canteen fee. Sergei had been the senior of his platoon, and had taken him under his wing. He kept him fed, trained him well, and recommended him for higher service. When the Soviet Union collapsed, he'd comforted the older man, and even hidden him from police after his involvement in the failed 1991 coup. Sergei had always told him his fears, anxieties, stresses, and complaints -- he'd cluck his tongue and tell him _'honesty is the sign of a healthy relationship.'_

There were few people he trusted in the world. And, if begrudgingly, Sergei Vladimir was currently one of them. 

Nicholai took a deep breath before speaking. 

"I found some... evidence... I was perhaps not... giving him everything he wanted." Nicholai chose his words carefully through a mutter, but knew he was still being obvious.

"In the bedroom?" Sergei asked curiously, eyebrow cocking upwards.

Nicholai groaned as he nodded, a flush of embarrassment coming across his cheeks.

"Mm... I see." Sergei nodded sympathetically, "Well... everyone had their own... ahh... preference in bedroom activities. It is no reason to end a good coupling."

Nicholai snorted, "It's hard not to take it personally."

"I didn't."

Nicholai sighed again, eyes closing and head drooping as the memory from a not-so-distant past came flooding into his mind.

They'd made a go of it -- He and Sergei -- just before the Union collapsed. It had been a short-lived intimate relationship, Nicholai simply unable to keep up with Sergei's rugged, primitive sexual needs. Sergei was _massive_ , penetration was always painful and never seemed to get easier. He didn't enjoy being stretched, or the thought of his body being transformed in any sort of significant way. On top of it all, he was _rough --_ almost just as harsh and aggressive in bed as he was during training. Nicholai could not handle it.

The man had been nothing if not generous in the ending of that element of their relationship, insisting it not affect their friendship -- and it never did. He'd been a perfect gentleman. This was the first time he'd ever brought it up.

"Have you spoken to Carlos about what can be done to resolve this?" Sergei asked, planting his hands on the plateau and beginning to lift himself from the water finally, "Perhaps there is a compromise? You two are cute together, I'd hate to see you break up."

"It just happened tonight and I was... angry. I couldn't think strai--"

Nicholai's words caught in his throat as he looked up to see Sergei's soaked body. He was combing his wet, silver hair back over his head, letting the water _plot_ down onto the stones below. The moonlight highlighted every muscle he had -- muscles in places most people didn't even know they had any. He glistened and glimmered in his nakedness like an ancient God preserved in marble. Not even remotely subdued by the cold of the water, Sergei's cock hung heavily between his thighs, the thickness of it sending an involuntary shudder up Nicholai's spine as his body recalled the intensity it came with. It would put any one of the men in Carlos' videos to complete shame.

"Couldn't think straight..." Nicholai finished the sentence in a mutter, all of the neutrons in his brain firing off simultaneously.

And just that... 

It hit him.

\--

"You still ain't gonna' tell me what happened?"

Carlos shook his head, sighing deeply. 

Murphy twisted his lips in discontent, shaking his head, "Man, when things happen, you gotta' be able to talk to someone. Or else I'm just thinkin' the worst over here!" Murphy furrowed his brow, "He didn't touch you, did he? Because if that lunatic lays a hand on you I--"

Carlos stopped walking, turning to face his friend. "It's okay! He did nothing wrong. It was just-- I just fucked up, that's all."

Murphy rolled his eyes, wiping a few wet droplets from his face as they pattered down from a tree leaf. 

Though wet clothes were annoying, the cool, rainy weather was a welcome scene for the day's field training, mercenaries being sent out into the rugged forest in a mock-war, teams being assigned to role-play different belligerent groups. But Murphy had seen the disjointed, upset look on Carlos' face, and the two had carved out a different path from the others, breaking away and combing the limits of the fake village U.B.C.S had set up for evacuation training.

Suddenly, Nicholai's unmistakable voice blared through the trees.

"Seeker! Where the fuck are you, you little shit?" 

"Ah, shit." Murphy rolled his eyes and hissed, "You get outta' here, Carlos... Go clear your head somewheres."

Carlos nodded, appreciative of the gesture. The last person in the world he wanted to see right now was Nicholai, the man not coming back to their unit the previous night. Carlos had figured he'd probably slept in the Sargeant's lounge, feeling terribly upset with himself over the thought of Nicholai having to cram himself onto the small couch there. 

The young man made his way through the trees and into the fake village -- a long, empty street populated by old cars, and the empty shells of houses, most of which didn't even have proper siding, windows, or doors. It was all for show -- obstacles to assist in the simulations. 

As he walked, he heard a thunderous roar in the distance -- the dark clouds crackling as they threatened to unleash more rain. A gust of wind told him a downpour was imminent, and he quickly darted to the nearest 'house' for cover, jumping in the doorless entryway and waiting. Not a moment later, it was as though the clouds had begun to pour buckets, a heavy stream of rain practically hosing down from the sky. Even the dust of the 'road' was being kicked up by the force of the fat drops. He'd found cover just in the nick of time.

Carlos sighed and unbuckled his heavy, canvas backpack. It was filled with nothing but weights, and he sighed in relief when he let it drop to the ground. Rolling his head back on his shoulders, he _cracked_ his sore spine. But just as he did, the crack of his tired bones was accompanied by a loud _creeeeeeak_.

Carlos stopped for a moment, holding himself steady and listening. 

_creeeeeaaak_

The young man spun around, eyes widening when he saw Sergei Vladimir stepping up into the house. The older man had an amused expression on his face, and was twirling the huge knife he often carried around with him casually. 

"O-oh, Colonel!" Carlos huffed a breath, almost relieved until he remembered he was absolutely not where he was supposed to be.

"What are you doing here, Mr. Oliveira...?" Sergei spoke. His rolling, deep accent was like a punch to the gut. He continued to _very_ slowly close the distance between them.

Quickly, Carlos decided to lie, "U-uhh... I got lost! And then-- then it started to ra-rain. I was going to go back bu-but when the rain stopped!"

Sergei nodded slowly, pursing his lips, "Yes, you are quite wet, aren't you?"

Carlos swallowed. His Adams apple bobbed, feeling like a stone grating against a concrete. Sergei was still moving closer. The knife's edge was whispering through the air as it was spun with expert ease.

"You should take your clothes off -- dry them a bit."

"W-what?!" Carlos began to back up, breaths becoming dangerously thin of oxygen. His mind began to dip and dance dizzily, unsure of what was happening.

Sergei closed the final few feet much faster, forcing Carlos' back to slam against the wall behind him. The younger man gasped, body pinned completely flat against the stronger, larger frame, eyes so wide they almost hurt. The Russian reached up and grabbed Carlos' cheeks between his fingers, squishing them tightly.

"You aren't very good at listening, are you?" 

Carlos could almost _feel_ the man's growl through his chest.

"First you don't salute me, and now you are questioning orders?" Sergei cocked his head to the side, a smirk peeling across his scarred face, "Do you need to be _**trained**_ , Mr. Oliveira?"

Carlos squeaked pathetically. 

"Is that it? You need a bit of **_training_**?" 

The way Sergers tongue rolled over the syllables slowly made it obvious he was being intentional. As though he knew and was deliberately provoking all of Carlos' sick fantasies to rush into the foreground of his mind. But there was no way he could know, Carlos thought, could he?

Sergei released his cheeks and Carlos gasped loudly. He told himself the blood rushing to the flesh was because they'd been squeezed -- not for a single other reason. The Colonel still remained pressed against him, looking down his nose at him with a curious expression Carlos couldn't quite decipher.

"I am going to tell you again... And you will comply. Do you understand me?"

Carlos nodded.

"Take off your clothes." Sergei stepped back once he finished speaking, sheathing his knife and crossing his strong arms over his broad chest.

Carlos hiccupped a meek whimper, fingers stumbling over the latches and buckles of his uniform. His mind was racing in a mix of fear and an anxious arousal, internally screaming at himself for the sensations his body was involuntarily feeling.

"C-Colo-nel I h-have a b-boyfriend." He blathered stupidly, "I h-have a b-boyf-friend."

Sergei tilted his head to the side, his smirk turning to a genuinely content grin as his unscarred eye lit up pleasantly.

"Oh? You do?" He asked, a kind softness in his voice.

Carlos nodded.

"Well in that case..." His face dropped to a void of cruelty again, "Take off your **_fucking_** clothes."

The younger man sobbed, fingers trembling as they began to peel the first layers of his uniform away. Sergei sneered at him as he did, mocking him at every turn.

" _I have a boyfriend~_ " He peeped, crudely imitating a woman's voice as he jeered at Carlos' distress, "Your boyfriend can't satisfy a whore like you."

"N-no!"

"A whore like you needs a big cock... You don't think I saw you staring me down in training? You looked like you were _starving_."

"No! N-no!" Carlos felt himself begin to heave, fingers clutching to the fabric of his underwear but hesitating to pull them down, "No, n-no, no!"

"Yes!" He chuckled, "You want this. Don't pretend you don't. Now take them _off_."

Carlos whimpered pathetically, pushing the fabric down his thighs. His cheeks burned so fiercely he felt them numbing, his obviously erect manhood popping proudly from the band as it was finally released from its fabric prison.

"Ha!" Sergei barked, staring at the erection cruelly, "I knew it. You're nothing but a slut! Well, do not worry, slut, you will be well fed today."

Sergei snapped his fingers, pointing down to the pile of clothes Carlos had left on the floor, "A mess! Are you such a _hole_ that you have no respect for your uniform? You take it off that much, hmm?" Sergei sneered, "Get on your knees and fold it! Show me that you have _an iota_ of decency left."

Carlos hated the wave of electricity that shot through his hips as Sergei verbally abused him. The man was striking the bell of every fantasy he'd ever had -- every video he'd ever watched, every story he'd ever read. Hell, he was _sure_ he'd even watched something in the past where a drill sergeant had forced a young soldier to fold his uniform in a similar way.

From all the porn he'd watched and hoarded over the years, he was entirely incapable of stopping his body from responding to the very thing he'd trained it to crave. He hated himself.

Kneeling on the cold, dusty floor, he carefully began to sort through his clothes and fold them regulation-style. Sergei watched him intently, beginning to circle his naked body like a hungry bear glaring down at a wounded rabbit.

"You don't even deserve to wear that uniform..." Sergei mocked, "You should be strapped down and used as a communal hole for the real soldiers." Sergei moved to crouch beside him, taller than him even then, "But you'd probably enjoy that, wouldn't you, _**slut**_?"

Carlos simply sniffled in response, trying to shake his head but unable to muster the energy.

Sergei stood again, moving to his front. He began to quickly unbutton his long coat, peeling it off of his strong shoulders to reveal a naked chest that was so muscular and scarred it made Carlos _quiver_. The Russian tossed his coat down onto Carlos' lap.

"Fold it!" 

When Carlos immediately went to comply, he was stopped by the sensation of Sergei's fingers coiling into his damp hair. He tugged at his head, forcing his chin up.

"I am your superior! You will confirm when I give you an order!" He snapped.

"Y-yes... S-sir..."

Sergei released the light grip he'd had on his hair and let him return to folding the heavy coat. It was so big, so much material, that Carlos almost had a hard time doing it.

When he looked back up at Sergei, he saw the man was unbuttoning his pants. He wasn't wearing a belt.

No belt. No shirt. It was like he had anticipated doing this. Carlos shivered at the thought that he'd been targeted. 

Carlos' jaw dropped stupidly when he saw Sergei free his cock. 

Massive.

It was massive.

Massive probably wasn't even the right word for it. It was _monstrous_. Bigger than any he'd ever seen in even the filthiest of the smut he'd watched. So big it couldn't stand like a normal cock would when erect, and just fell heavily between his thighs when Sergei released it, returning his hand into his pants to pull his peach-sized balls free as well.

"O-oh m-my..." Carlos felt saliva begin to accumulate in his mouth rapidly. His head felt hazy, like a fog had just dusted in over his conscious thoughts. His eyes were totally locked on the manhood presented to him, Sergei noticing his absolute focus and chuckling in amusement. 

"Do you see something you like, whore?"

"Ye-yes, Sir..." Carlos wanted to slap a hand over his mouth as he babbled the response faster than his brain could realise he was speaking and stop it.

Sergei smirked at the eager response, taking a step forward and grabbing his cock by the middle of its long, thick shaft. When he was so close Carlos could _smell_ him, he lifted the head of his cock to gently rub against the younger man's warm, red cheek. Carlos moaned involuntarily as the head rubbed against him, eyes fluttering and lust swelling.

"You are so cute, _malysh_... I am thankful for this treat." Sergei hummed happily, lifting his cock and pressing the root where his shaft met his balls against Carlo's face. "Lick, little kitten."

Carlos complied immediately, hating the lack of hesitation in his movements. The moment his tongue came in contact with Sergei's soft flesh, he felt an electrical current of delight run up his spine.

He tasted _amazing_. 

Carlos lapped and licked, slurping and sucking at the lax tissue excitedly. Sergei was resting his cock across his face, and Carlos felt entirely overwhelmed by the smell of raw masculinity and power. 

"Lick all the way up me, _malysh_ , get me nice and wet." 

Again, the younger man complied without pause, beginning to run his tongue up the shaft. He was pressing it roughly against the protruding map of veins, delighting in the throbbing he could feel beneath his tongue. The shaft felt like it was never-ending in length, and Carlos' eyes rolled back as he took in more and more of the incredible flavour. 

"This is the only chance you get to make this easier for yourself, whore, do well." Sergei smirked, "I don't care if I _tear you to pieces_."

Carlos quivered, making a sound that was a mix of a whimper and a moan. 

"Suck the hole... draw out your cream, little kitten!" 

Hands firmly planted at the base of Sergei's cock, Carlos began to flick his tongue at Sergei's piss slit, closing his lips around the very tip and slurping loudly. He made a conscious effort to salivate as much as he could, slobbering on the member as a part of him genuinely feared being ruined beyond repair. Sergei seemed to appreciate his efforts, one of his hands coming down to stroke at the younger man's hair with more softness than Carlos anticipated.

It wasn't long before he felt the first, thick bead of cum leak into his mouth. The taste alone made him groan happily, his hips jerking slightly as his body became immediately needy, cock beginning to throb wildly as his hormones absorbed the deep, testosterone-laced flavour from his tongue. 

Sergei immediately took notice.

"On your hands and knees! It's time for you to get fed."

"Y-yes, Sir..." Carlos licked his lips, turning and setting his hands on the floor before shuffling his legs backwards. Unconsciously, he spread his thighs a bit wider than he would have naturally, back arching. He nibbled on his lip as he waited.

The moment Carlos' bottom was to him, Sergei reached into the back pocket of his pants, quietly pulling out a small bottle of lubricant. He quickly uncapped it and slathered his cock with its contents, unsure of what to do with the empty bottle, and not wanting Carlos to see it. He thought for a moment before unceremoniously tossing it out of the doorless frame of the training house.

"Ready, Mr. Oliveira?"

"Y-yes, S-sir!"

"You sound so eager..." Sergei smirked, stroking the lubricant over his cock, " _Khorosho_! A true whore!"

Sergei slid his cock up and down Carlos' ass slit, prodding the younger man's balls with the tip of his cock before running it back up to the bottom of his back. Carlos moaned with every stroke, his hips wiggling and his cock jumping excitedly. 

The Colonel began to push his hips forward, delighting when Carlos' moans became louder and more delirious. 

"Push back onto me, whore, I want to see you work for this gift."

Carlos took a deep breath, trying to crawl his knees backwards but failing miserably. His tight hole protested the insertion, muscles involuntarily clenching up and trying to prevent him from taking it. 

"Just relax, kitten!" Sergei soothed, running a massive hand along the young man's hip, "Take a deep breath. Remind your body how much you _need_ this..."

"Yes... S-sir..." Carlos panted. 

He took a series of breaths, each deeper than the last. 

He thought back to all of the smut he'd watched and read -- all of the times he wished he was the boy in the story getting utterly demolished by a cock he couldn't even _fantasise_ was as big as the one currently waiting to enter him. 

And just as he was completely unguarded, he felt Sergei _thrust_.

Carlos' eyes widened and his lips parted in shock as Sergei's cock forced its way into his body. He could feel the head pop through the ring of muscle which had tried to deny it entry. 

It _hurt_. But the pain wasn't unbearable. 

Pressure -- a whole lot of pressure. His inner walls felt strained already, and Sergei hadn't even started.

"Now come back."

"Y... Yes... Sir..." Carlos whispered, moaning as he walked his knees backwards. Every inch he took felt impossible -- like he would not be able to accept one single more. But he continued, perversely appreciative when he felt Sergei's fingers wrap around his thighs and help him along, pushing him as he walked on his knees.

When his hips were to Carlos' ass, Sergei paused for a moment, praising the young man for his success. And then, he attempted his first thrust. 

Carlos almost _screamed_. His arms buckled and his chest dropped to the floor, cheek rubbing against the filthy wood as a wave of oversimtulation pulsed through him with his heartbeat.

Sergei thrust again, his cock awkwardly refusing to comply with the movement of his hips, Carlos' body having far too tight a grip on him. So he applied more force to his next push in, something that made Carlos begin to blather incoherently. 

It took five thrusts total for a decent rhythm to be established, Carlos' innards coating in enough of the lubricant he'd covertly applied to assist in his movement. But it was still incredibly difficult for Sergei, who now seemed to be the one hissing in discomfort while Carlos was moaning and screeching like a banshee as his prostate was completely demolished. 

"You are going to be so loose after this!" Sergei grunted, internally _entirely_ unsure about that, "Your stupid little boyfriend will know your cunt is _owned_ by a better man!"

Carlos gasped, incapable of understanding a single word Sergei was barking at him. All he could focus on was the incredible stretch he was enduring, and the way Sergei's cock seemed to prod at the deepest parts of his body -- parts never meant to be touched.

He could hear his stomach gurgling and grunting with the abuse, his innards wrenching and protesting the intrusion. Carlos' eyes rolled back to the whites, his mouth gaped and drool leaking from the corers as he felt pain undulate to pleasure and back again.

He was living his ultimate fantasy.

"Tell me you're my..." Sergei sighed and stopped thrusting for a moment, head tilting to the side and unscarred eye flicking around the air as though he were thinking deeply about something, "What the hell was that word they used in the video..." He muttered to himself quietly.

Carlos felt a bit of confusion cut through his overwhelming arousal, brain accepting but not understanding what Sergei had just said. But before he could even begin to think deeper about it, the man began thrusting again, wiping clean any thoughts that he had been trying to give birth to.

"Ah! Cocksleeve! Yes. Tell me you're my cocksleeve!"

Carlos moaned loudly.

He _loved_ that word. 

He'd searched for all sorts of smut that used it in the past. Dozens upon dozens of times.

It was such a perfect word. So simple yet so devastating. _Cocksleeve_ \-- nothing but a hole to take and pleasure cock. A tool. An object for the pleasure of others. Carlos almost felt himself drool as he realised this would be his first chance to say it out loud to another man.

"I-I'm y-your co-cocksleeve!"

"Again!" Sergei increased the aggression in his thrusts, hips slapping against Carlos' bottom loudly as he felt the younger man's prostate begin to twitch against his cock, his orgasm clearly drawing near.

"O-oh f-fuck... I'm... cock... cocksleeve." Carlos dribbled stupidly, brain feeling totally empty, "I'm... a... co- _cocksleeve_..."

" _ **Again**_!"

\--

Carlos swallowed hard as he slipped through the doorway into the apartment.

He hadn't wanted to go back to Nicholai's, wondering if he should have just moved back into the general dormitory. But all of his clothes were still in Nicholai's closet, and he'd at least have to retrieve them if he did move out.

The smell of something delicious immediately accosted him as he walked in. He poked his head around the wall of the very short entrance, seeing Nicholai at the stove, stirring something in a large pot.

Just setting his sights on the man was almost too much. 

"Did you have fun with Sergei?" 

Carlos' heart sunk, crashing through his stomach and plummeting into the floor.

Nicholai knew.

Nicholai knew he'd been unfaithful.

Immediately, Carlos felt the pinpricks of pain at the corners of his eyes. As if it wasn't enough that the man knew he'd been using lewd pornography, he knew he'd been weak in his resolve and _cheated on him._ Carlos' chest began to burn with shame, feeling utterly disgusted with himself. He'd ruined the first relationship he'd ever had because of a _sick_ fantasy. He was sick. He decided he needed a counsellor -- a priest, an exorcist, _anyone_ who could fix him.

"I-I'm s-so so-sorry. I'm j-just going to get my-my stuff... I'm s-- I'll just g-go, ac-actually." He sobbed.

Carlos turned on the heels of his filthy boots, striding towards the exit quickly. 

"Where are you going?" Nicholai asked, stopping Carlos in his tracks. The younger man cast a wary, tear-filled look towards him. "You don't want food? I thought you'd be hungry."

"B-but--"

Nicholai began to fill a bowl up with the stew he'd made, setting it down on the counter casually. "Come eat."

Carlos was confused. Nicholai seemed entirely calm and collected. Despite knowing what he'd done, he even looked _amused_. The younger man didn't know what to say, his lips quieting and cheeks twitching as tears continued to stream down his face. Maybe, he thought, the stew was filled with poison. That would be the only way it made sense.

Carlos figured he deserved it. He cautiously stepped a bit closer, hands wringing awkwardly at his hips.

Nicholai turned once he'd filled yet another bowl, not immediately setting it down like he had the other. His jade eyes flicked over Carlos' body curiously, as though he were looking for something.

"He didn't hurt you, did he?"

Carlos shook his head.

"Good. I was worried he would be too rough. I hope the giant _kobel_ actually used the lubricant."

Silence.

Carlos' eyes began to widen as the words pressed deeper and deeper into his mind.

And then, just like that, they _clicked_.

The bowl of stew Nicholai had been holding clattered to the ground as Carlos lunged at him, wrapping his arms around his shoulders tightly in a desperate embrace. The meaty mix sprayed across the floor, a chunk of potato hitting Nicholai in the ankle.

The older man began to laugh as he was tugged to the ground, Carlos barely able to hold his own body weight up, all of the strength in his body being put into the tightest embrace he could manage.

"Tha-thank you!" He sobbed, "T-thank y-you s-so much!"

"Shhh, _malysh_..." Nicholai smiled, slipping his hands onto Carlos' hips. His uniform was soaked and cold, and suddenly Nicholai began to be worried more about whether he was going to get a flu.

"Thank y-you, than-k you, tha-thank you!" Carlos wouldn't stop blathering, head buried in the crook of Nicholai's neck.

"You have to take these clothes off, you are _filthy_."

"Th-thank you!"

"Carlos..."

Nicholai sighed and finally stopped resisting -- letting himself be drenched in the nonsensical, emotional blubber. He sighed as the stew soaked into his pants, and thought about how nice it would be if the two of them had a warm shower together.

It was a calming thought, one that was immediately broken by the emergence of Sergei's head around the corner of the kitchen. The man looked like a cat who had gotten the proverbial canary.

Nicholai's eyes flicked upwards, forgetting entirely that the other man had the key to his room. He had the key to _all_ of their rooms.

Sergei's unscarred eye twinkled as he watched the two, ignoring Nicholai's needle-sharp glare which demanded he leave and give them a moment to settle. Carlos was whining and mewling appreciatively, pinning Nicholai down like a giant, fluffy mastiff.

He outturned his bottom lip in a childish pout when Nicholai began to wave him away, silently ordering him out of sight.

"But I was promised stew..."

**Author's Note:**

> FIRST THING'S FIRST: The very first few sentences (in bold and italics) were directly taken from SweetNSimple's amazing story "His Seryozha." That fic was a smutty, incredible, filthy Nicholai/Sergei and I just changed Sergei's name to 'Yuri' (because it would have been weird if Nicholai was reading a fanfic about himself lmfao)
> 
> Also, when Sergei said "everyone has a preference in bedroom activities" -- that was also a shout out to them, as that is the title of one of their other amazing fanfics. 
> 
> This was a gift for SweetNSimple, and I thought it would be fun to include them in the fic in a way, if that makes sense.
> 
> SECOND THING: Please forgive me, SweetNSimple for how long this took. I was TRYING SO HARD. I was not ignoring you I was just trying to make this ready first TT-TT I wanted to have a gift for you because you have just been making so much good content recently and I felt bad. I literally wrote and rewrote this probably 3 times. I kept scrapping everything I had and starting again. I wanted it to be perfect TTxTT (which it is not)
> 
> THIRD THING: Sergei with a tan lives RENT FREE in my mind from NOW ON.


End file.
